There are too many guitar wielding punk ponces around at the moment, putting it about like a slapper after a couple of lemon Hooches and generally showering themselves in the glory of rock's novelty comeback. Thing is, they disappeared once before and they'll disappear again, and when they do their memory will be tarnished and their albums burnt. Remember Skid Row? What a bunch of wankers. That'll be The Datsuns in fifteen years, and anyone else whose band starts with a 'The' for that matter. Sad bastards.

Am I ranting? Well that's what happens when you hear a properly cool album. Everything else might as well just fuck off and wither. Zongamin have earned the right to avoid this vitriolic retribution by creating a lo-tech electro-fuzz monster that has 12 arses and elbows, and knows the difference between all of them. Having glued a guitar, some pedals and a load of filthy synth bass onto his computer, S Mukai (the pulsating brain behind the project) strapped a drum machine to his face and hit record. The result is a schizophrenic shot of spaghetti western mayhem, (Make Love Not War), angular foot-stamping menace, (Serious Trouble), and made-in-the-kitchen-sink funk, (Painless). As for the rest, think tiny robot monkeys operating a utopian miniature fairground where no one gets ripped offâ€¦this is what gets played through the PA on the waltzers. Shit, my headache is starting again. More Zongamin motherâ€¦I must have more.